Page 6 of Forbidden Intent

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Closing my eyes, I bend my neck to the left and then to the right hoping for some kind of relief from the tension that this class always causes me.But instead of releasing, it radiates when Professor Clarke’s eagle-eyed gaze falls on me.

“Tamsin?”

Shit.My heartbeat accelerates and sweat starts to bead on my forehead.I’m confident in all of my classes except for this one.Professor Clarke took a particularly strong dislike to me from the moment I walked in the room, and it wasn’t until he made a snide comment about being music royalty that I realized it had anything to do with my dad.Since the first day of class, nothing I do or say is ever good enough, even when it’s the right answer.So, the idea that he’s expecting me to answer him now means only one thing.

He’s setting me up to fail.

He asked about promotional strategies.“Uh, advertising, sales, and public relations.”

He shakes his head and tsks me.“So close and yet so far.”

The group of mean girls who always sit behind me, led by the snootiest girl I’ve ever met—Annabel—giggle like his snide comment was hysterical.I thought I would leave high school behind me once I was in college, but apparently there are mean girls wherever you go.

I fight against the urge to shut down—something that’s become my go-to strategy during any kind of confrontation.I never used to be this way, but it became an all-too-effective coping strategy, and like any bad habit, it was easy to start but is hard to break.I keep my shoulders back and hold my head up.I know my answer is right, although now that I’m not under his cold, penetrating stare, I realize I forgot the importance of personal selling.Damn.

He gestures to Annabel, a genuine smile on his face, and asks her what I forgot.I listen as she states the same thing I just realized myself, but I refuse to show them how frustrated I am—with them, with myself, with this whole damn class.

The hour ticks by—one painful second feeling like an entire minute.By the time the one-hour class is dismissed, I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin.My neck and shoulders feel taut, and that spot between my shoulder blades is aching as if I sat hunched over my laptop for hours without moving.I know that’s where I hold all my stress, but I’ve never been able to get a massage to fully release all the tension that I can tell is built up there.

Rikki tried to convince me once and even signed us up for a couple’s massage so I wouldn’t have to do it by myself.But the second the female masseuse put her hands on my naked back, I freaked.

Rikki didn’t ask any questions—she didn’t have to—and simply told them we would have to cancel the session.I felt so much guilt I burst into tears as soon as we got outside, but she convinced me things were fine and then told me days later that she’d gone back and not only paid for the session, but had given them a huge tip.

As if my thoughts have summoned her, my phone rings with her signature ringtone, “You Gotta Be”—an old nineties song we heard on the radio once and fell in love with.

I answer with a heavy sigh, “Hey.”

“Uh-oh, I know that tone.You just had Professor Douche, didn’t you?”

I giggle at her nickname for Professor Clarke, but don’t bother correcting her.At this point, I’m in complete agreement with her.I tried to give him a chance early on in the semester, hoping that he’d see I wasn’t some spoiled rich girl, but I’ve given up.He seems more annoyed with me by the day.

“I’m just stressed about this class.”

“Can you take it another semester with a different professor?”

“No, it’s a prerequisite for the course I need to take next semester to stay on track for my major.”I’m already a year ahead of everyone else we know because I graduated from high school a year early after switching to an online program after the night I don’t talk about.This semester has the last of my prerequisites before I get to focus solely on my major and dive into all the good classes.

“You know what you should do about that?”she asks, and I can practically hear the grin through the phone.

“What?”I ask, knowing her well enough to worry about what her answer will be this time.

“Rub one out.”

I roll my eyes.“You have sex on the brain.”

“Uh, yeah.Have you seen my sexy-ass boyfriend?”She lets out a pleased sigh and then starts to go on about how good Dante is with his tongue.

I stop her before she gets too detailed, not because I’m uncomfortable like I normally am when she talks about sex, but because suddenly I’m imagining what it would feel like if it was Miles doing the things she’s describing—nibbling my thighs as his lusty brown gaze locks with mine.My breath locks in my chest as I imagine him taking my clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking it while he simultaneously sucks it hard and my fingers sliding through his silky brown hair as I hold him to my body.

My cheeks heat, and that unfamiliar pulsing between my thighs has me breathing heavily.

“Okay, enough of the phone porn, thanks,” I say, grateful my voice doesn’t betray the fantasy that just sparked my body to life.We talk for a few more minutes about nothing important while I walk to my car and then make plans to hang out tomorrow.

When I walk into my apartment, I drop my backpack on the floor right inside the door and make my way to the fridge, my mouth achingly dry.I grab a cold water bottle and then lean back against the counter looking at the place I’ve made my own since I moved out of my dad’s house a few months ago.

I know I’m lucky to be able to live in such a high-end apartment with all the amenities I could want right at my fingertips.But there are days I’d give it all up just for one more day with my mom.When she died, my dad put all her life insurance in a trust for me that I started getting access to when I turned eighteen.It’s the reason I have this apartment with stainless steel kitchen appliances, a spacious living room with a view of the ocean, a master bedroom, and a guest room that I’ve set up as an office for studying and to hold my collection of books.It’s a beautiful space, but it’s also bittersweet.

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